


when he sleeps

by EKmisao



Series: stories from the end [1]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Related, F/M, Game Spoilers, ending spoilers, special episode section
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 18:50:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8296354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EKmisao/pseuds/EKmisao
Summary: When he sleeps, the mask falls. (Ending/extended ending spoilers) (one-shot)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty sure there are many who were ahead of me getting spoiled until the secret episodes, but for safety's sake: SPOILER WARNING for the ending and extended ending. 
> 
> If you're okay with that, though, hi. I'm a guest here, formerly of the E/R sections. I hope I get this right.

[THE SPOILER WARNING IS REPEATED.]  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
................................

When he sleeps, the lids drop gently down, the lips open just a bit, the head nods forward. 

The mask falls. The mask fades. 

Whatever he was doing has stopped into a long download of something I do not understand. But the typing has stopped. His overworked body could not help but snatch the little sleep it could. He remains with his laptop rested over his crossed legs, seated on the floor, hunched in a far corner away from me. His head bobs as he sleeps. 

The mask falls. 

His brows knit together. His lips are lost in a dream, or a nightmare, whispering, muttering, calling out to someone. 

He is tired, exhausted. But more than that, he is afraid. Afraid of losing control of his world, of his existence, of his life. 

The laptop dings. 

He snaps awake. He looks up at his work. He looks up at me. 

He tries to put the mask back on. But it is late, and he is tired. He manages to grin a bit, before he looks down with a grim face at his work, at the rapidly scrolling lines of code that I could see reflected in his glasses. 

There is much I do not understand. I do not know how to help. I do not know how to help with the fear. 

So I stay. I quietly watch, quietly pray that everything I do and say helps even a little, to ease something, anything. 

And I watch as he sleeps. 

.............................

When he sleeps, the lids drop down, the lips open just a bit, as he collapses. 

He let me sleep in the car, after all. Fuelled by more cans of soda and iced coffee than I could count, he drove for hours and hours, after days surviving on snatches of sleep. 

He attacked a building singlehandedly, fought the young man he calls his brother. Then he drove for a few hours more, toward a safehouse. 

As soon as he was sure that we were safe from immediate harm, that he had at least informed Jumin that we were okay, he collapsed onto the sofa. 

Have the bed, he said. I don't deserve to be anywhere near you, after all of this, after all that I put you through, when you didn't even know what was going on, he said. 

The mask falls. 

He sleeps fitfully, tossing and turning, his hair and forehead damp in cold sweat. 

Listen to me, he keeps muttering. I did not know. I did not know at all. Listen to me. Please believe me. Younger brother. If you were deceived, so was I. Please believe me. There is no one else I can believe, myself. But please. Believe me. 

There is much I do not understand. I do not know how to help. I do not know how to help with the fear. 

Yet, I stay. I sit near the fireplace, I sit near him at the sofa. I run my hand through his hair, damp and cold. I try to wipe the sweat from his forehead. 

I hold his hand. I place his hand where it touches my cheeks. I am not sure if it helps him at all. But I have to have him know that there is at least one person who believes, who believes in him. Even if it's just one, even it's just me. 

And I watch as he sleeps. 

.............................

When he sleeps, the eyes suddenly roll back, as the lids suddenly fall, as he drops to the floor. 

I do not know what to be scared of. My heart pounds that he has fallen unconscious, his face much too pale from too much lost blood. My eyes is kept aware of his brother, waving a gun at several people, as he holds the side of his head. My ears are kept too aware of too many voices shouting and pleading, each making sense of a situation that lost all sense years ago, these people who were not even part of my life two weeks ago. But mostly, my heart pounds, that he has fallen, after finally reaching some sense of his nightmares, after finally getting a chance to protect his brother, after all the hours he has already protected me. 

The gun is fired. 

Another young man falls. A young woman screams. 

People in dark suits charge into the large assembly hall. 

The only thing that properly registers with me is that the mask has fallen. 

He is not at peace. Not yet. His face tells me so. His face is locked in that stance of protecting those he loves. His deep mind is still protecting his brother, while protecting me. 

He will protect me until the end. He promised me so. He promised him so, those many years ago. 

So I stay. I rush to stay beside him as the brother is neutralized safely and brought away. I stay as he is taken away by paramedics, as people rapidly control the bleeding and dress the wounds. I hold his hand firmly in mine. That much, amidst all this confusion, amidst all this chaos, I can do. And I watch as he sleeps. 

.................................

I watch as he awakes, opening his eyes to me, as I assure him that he is alive, that his brother is alive. Not everything is well, but that which is important is still here to protect. 

I hold him as he cries, at everything of the last few days, as everything collapses, as everything falls into place. 

The last mask has fallen. There is no mask left. 

I stay by his side, as we talk, as we keep talking. Of the past, and the present. Maybe one day we will talk of the future. But right now, the present is enough. 

There is much I do not understand. I do not know how to help. I do not know how to help with the fear.

But I stay, holding his hand, as he sleeps. Reminding him he no longer has to fight alone, to be alone. 

I stay while he sleeps.


End file.
